I opened the portal back to Earth with a strange feeling of returning to a life that was no longer mine. It was like an actor returning to a role he had played months ago, but which now seemed like a fantasy that no longer fit.
The MIT office was exactly as he had left it—papers strewn across the desk, coffee still cold in the mug, dust particles hanging in the air as if time had truly stopped. And it had, of course. 72 hours of temporal stasis had preserved this moment as a photograph.
But for me, it had been 28 subjective days. 83,399 deaths. An interdimensional war. Genocide of an entire civilization.
"THYSS ZELAK," I muttered, and time went back.
The transformation was instantaneous and strange. Dust particles began to move again. Distant sounds from the campus filtered through the windows. My phone immediately began to vibrate with notifications that had been paused mid-stream.
I snapped my fingers and fell back onto the couch, feeling the weight of experiences no one on Earth could possibly comprehend. It was like a soldier returning from a war no one knew had happened.
I looked down at my hands—the same hands that had controlled 847 soldiers simultaneously, that had orchestrated the destruction of an interdimensional fortress, that had eliminated a threat that could have consumed entire dimensions. Now they seemed... small. Mundane.
My phone rang. Katharina.
"Kai? Where have you been? I've tried calling you several times in the past few hours."
Hours. To her, I had been missing for a few hours. To me, it had been an odyssey that fundamentally changed who I was.
"I was... processing some things," I replied, struggling to find a tone of voice that sounded normal. "The meeting with the group leaders was intense."
"I can imagine. Are you okay? Your voice sounds different."
Of course it sounded different. I was different. I had killed an entire civilization a few hours ago (subjective time). I had faced the possibility of my own extinction. I had discovered that I was possibly an experiment by a cosmic entity.
"Just tired," I lied. "Too much information to process."
"Well, when it's ready, we have important updates. Media is getting more aggressive asking for next steps. And David Chen has called twelve times - he's desperate to start training."
David. The young man who wanted to save his sister. Such a simple problem, so human, so... small compared to what I had just faced.
"Schedule a meeting with David for tomorrow morning," he said. "And prepare a statement for the media - we'll be announcing the official schedule for the academy in two days."
"Great. Kai... are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, Katharina. Just... reflecting on the responsibility of all this."
After hanging up, I sat on the couch for a long time, simply observing the office that had become the epicenter of global transformation. For the past few weeks (Earth time), this place had been where I had formulated plans for the revolution of human consciousness. Now it seemed... almost comical.
All my grandiose plans to conquer Earth, to build academia, to shape human development - all these were child's play compared to the reality of the cosmos.
Earth was a grain of sand on an infinite beach. Humanity was a species that did not even know that other intelligences existed. My "revolutionary discovery" was technology so advanced that civilizations had been using versions of it for millennia.
And I was... what? A rookie administrator who had risen a few positions through violence, but who was still at the lowest rung of a hierarchy that extended beyond human comprehension.
I stood up and walked to the window, looking out over the campus where students walked between classes, professors discussed theories they thought were cutting-edge, journalists awaited the next statement from "the man who discovered magic."
They had no idea.
They had no idea that just a few hours ago (subjective time), a war had been fought between forces that could have obliterated the solar system as a side effect. They did not know that a three hundred year old military civilization had been wiped out to protect their safety.
They didn't know that the person they venerated as a benevolent savior had committed mass genocide in another dimension.
It was absolute isolation. I carried knowledge and experiences that literally no one on Earth could understand or relate to. It was like being the only adult in a world of children - except that the "adult" had witnessed horrors that transcended any normal human experience.
My phone buzzed with a text message from David: "Dr. Thorne, I know you must be busy, but my sister took a turn for the worse today. Doctors say she may only have weeks. When can I start training, please?"
Weeks. He was concerned about weeks when I had spent subjective months facing eternity.
But then I paused. David knew nothing about interdimensional wars or cosmic hierarchies. To him, his sister was the entire universe. Her problem was bigger than anything else in existence.
It was a human perspective. It was real to him in the same way that Ares's threat had been real to me.
I replied, "David, we'll meet tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. We'll start training right away. Your sister will be fine."
It was a promise he could now make with certainty. After controlling 847 military minds simultaneously, teaching a young human to manipulate healing energy would be trivial.
I walked back to the table where stacks of documents waited—collaboration proposals, funding offers, interview invitations. Each document represented people and organizations that wanted to be part of what they thought was the next chapter in human evolution.
If only they knew.
If only they had known that the "academy" they were so eager to support would be preparation for eventual contact with cosmic forces that could annihilate human civilization in seconds.
If only they knew that the "scientific magic" they revered was technology so ancient and fundamental that it was equivalent to discovering fire.
If only they knew that the person they had placed their hopes in had returned from exterminating an entire civilization just a few hours ago.
But they couldn't know. Not yet. Maybe never.
I picked the first document from the pile - UNESCO's proposal for a "Global Partnership for Developing Advanced Human Capabilities." They wanted to integrate academia into the international education framework.
I smiled wryly. UNESCO concerned about human development when humanity didn't even know it was at the lowest level of the cosmic hierarchy with 50,000+ levels.
Second document: Vatican offering for "Ethical Oversight of Spiritual Applications." Pope Francis still wanted to ensure that discovery was used for moral purposes.
Morality. Interesting concept when applied to someone who had just committed preemptive genocide to protect an entire dimension.
Third document: investment proposal from tech billionaire offering $2 billion for commercial application development.
Money. Such a human, earthly concern. I controlled the resources of a civilization that had existed for two hundred years. Wealth beyond human comprehension.
But he still had to keep up appearances. He still had to play the role of Dr. Kai Thorne, a humble scientist who discovered something incredible and wanted to use it to improve humanity.
It was a performance that would need to continue indefinitely.
I turned on my laptop and started writing a statement for the media:
"After extensive consultations with international experts and careful consideration of ethical implications, I am pleased to announce the official schedule for the Advanced Capabilities International Academy.
Phase 1 will begin in 8 weeks with a pilot medical program focused on terminal conditions. Initial selection will be through a lottery system to ensure global fairness.
The Academy will be governed by an international board with representation from all major nations and religious groups, ensuring that development remains focused on applications beneficial to all humanity.
Our goal is not to create elites with special powers, but to democratize access to capabilities that can solve humanity's most pressing challenges - disease, poverty, environmental destruction.
This is the beginning of a new chapter for our species. A chapter written together, with wisdom and humility."
Lies. All lies.
Academia would be preparation for eventual human ascension in cosmic hierarchy. Selection would be based on aptitude for survival in an environment much more dangerous than Earth. Governance would be mine, absolute and final.
And the goal was to create an elite - an elite that could defend humanity when eventual contact with cosmic powers occurred.
But they didn't need to know that yet.
I saved the document and sent it to Katharina for review. Then I sat back in my chair, contemplating the enormity of the mistake that would be required.
From outward appearances, it would be exactly as promised - a benevolent institution dedicated to advancing human potential through ethical and collaborative methods.
In terms of internal reality, it would be a training ground for a species that didn't know it was in danger.
It was a necessary deception. Humans were not psychologically prepared for the truth about the cosmos. Revealing the existence of 50,000+ other networks, hierarchies of power that extended beyond comprehension, threats that could materialize without warning - this would cause panic, despair, collapse of the social order.
It is best to prepare them slowly. Give them tools first. Build capabilities. Create a foundation of strength and confidence. Then gradually introduce greater realities.
It was a long-term strategy that could take decades or centuries. But he had learned patience during months of repeated death and resurrection.
My phone rang. Neil deGrasse Tyson.
"Kai! How are you feeling after all the excitement? Ready for the next stage?"
Next phase. If he only knew that the next phase had already begun in dimensions he didn't even know existed.
"Feeling good, Neil. Excited to get to real work."
"Fantastic. I've been thinking about curriculum development. How do we structure learning progression for such unprecedented capabilities?"
Structure learning progression. How to explain to an astrophysicist that the curriculum would be based on preparing humans for survival in an environment where physics worked differently and consciousness could be weaponized?
"Start with the basics," I replied. "Foundation in theory, then simple applications, gradually progressing to more complex manipulations. Emphasis always on safety and ethical considerations."
"That makes sense. What about the research component? Surely there's so much to discover about how these capabilities actually work?"
Research component. How can we explain that "research" would be reverse engineering of technology so advanced that human science was like children playing with blocks?
"Absolutely. Research will be the main focus. Understanding mechanisms, exploring limitations, developing new applications. But always within a controlled environment."
"Perfect. Kai, I have to say, your approach to this has been exemplary. Thoughtful, ethical, collaborative. Exactly what a discovery of this magnitude requires."
Exemplary. Thoughtful. Ethical.
If he only knew.
"Thank you, Neil. That means a lot coming from you."
"And Kai? I know the pressure must be enormous. The whole world watching, the expectations sky-high. But you're handling it perfectly. Don't let the weight of responsibility crush you."
Weight of responsibility. He had no idea about the real weight I was carrying.
"I appreciate that, Neil. It's definitely... intense. But knowing that we're building something that can genuinely help people keeps me motivated."
"That's the spirit. Well, I'll let you get back to planning. I can't wait to see the academy take shape."
After hanging up, I sat in silence for a long time. The burden of maintaining deception was already becoming exhausting, and this was just the beginning.
For the rest of my life, I would need to be two people. Public face: benevolent scientist dedicated to advancing humanity. Private reality: interdimensional administrator preparing the species for cosmic threats they could not imagine.
It was a schizophrenic existence that would require constant vigilance. Every word, every decision, every public appearance would need to be carefully calculated to maintain the illusion.
But alternatives were unacceptable. Truth would destroy them. Lies could save them.
Standing up, I walked to the window once more, looking out at a world that seemed peaceful and normal. Students walking to classes where they learned about the universe that was a tiny fraction of reality. Researchers working on problems that seemed significant but were trivial in the cosmic context. Leaders making decisions about the future without understanding that the future might not be theirs to decide.
It was my responsibility now to protect them from the truth until they were strong enough to deal with it. To prepare them for eventual revelation without revealing what preparation was taking place.
It was a burden that few beings in the universe had ever carried. And he was carrying it alone.
Because the only person who could understand was me. And I had chosen a path that made connection with equals impossible until humans evolved enough to join the cosmic community.
It was the price of being a guardian for a species that didn't know it needed a guardian.
It was the price of being a bridge between what humanity was and what they needed to become.
And it was a price he was willing to pay.
Because the alternative - leaving them unprepared for eventual contact with cosmic powers - was extinction.
Better to carry a burden in solitude than to allow the species to die in ignorance.
My phone buzzed with a calendar reminder: "Tomorrow 8am - David Chen training begins."
Tomorrow would mark the official start of phase two: teaching humans to use capabilities not just for personal benefit, but as a foundation for a much greater purpose.
David thought he was learning to save his sister.
Reality: He was beginning training to help save his species.
And neither he nor anyone else could know the true bets until much later in the game.
It was a complex deception that would require perfect execution over potentially decades.
But by then, I had become very good at complex operations requiring perfect execution.
83,399 attempts to destroy Ares had taught me the value of patience, precision, and unwavering commitment to long-term goals.
Now I would apply these lessons to a much more important goal: preparing humanity for a future they could not imagine in a universe they did not know existed.
It was my responsibility.
It was my burden.
It was my mission.
And I would succeed, no matter what the cost to myself.
Because some things were more important than individual happiness.
Survival of the species was one of them.
That night I slept more soundly than I had in... well, in 28 subjective days. It was the sleep of a soldier returning from war, where body and mind finally allowed themselves to relax after the constant tension of life or death.
I didn't dream of Ares. I didn't dream of 83,399 deaths. I didn't dream of cosmic hierarchies or primordial entities.
I dreamed of simple things. Breakfast. Software programming. Normal conversations with normal people about normal problems.
They were the most comforting dreams I've ever had.
I woke up at 7:30, naturally, without an alarm. My body still remembered basic human rhythms, even after transcending fundamental human limitations. It was comforting to discover that some things remained constant.
I took a long shower, savoring the sensation of warm water against my skin. It was such a simple luxury, so earthly, so... human. After experiencing existence across multiple dimensions, basic physical pleasure seemed almost miraculous.
I prepared coffee with deliberate care, measuring beans, adjusting temperature, watching dark liquid flow into the cup. A morning ritual that billions of humans performed daily, without realizing how extraordinary it was to have a morning ritual in the first place.
I sat on the couch with coffee and opened my laptop, curiosity finally getting the better of what was happening in the world while I was away.
Twitter was... predictable.
#KaiThorne trending worldwide, of course. But also related hashtags: #AcademiaMagica, #EvolucaoHumana, #MilagresCientificos.
I scrolled through the tweets:
"@DrKaiThorne_Oficial when do registrations start??? I NEED to learn this!!! #AcademiaMagica"
"My theory: Dr. Thorne discovered how to hack reality through advanced quantum physics #ScienceNotMagic"
"Thread 🧵 about how Thorne's discovery will change literally EVERYTHING: medicine, transportation, economy, war... (1/47)"
"Pope said it's okay so it must be a good thing, right? #DivineApproval"
"DOES ANYONE ELSE THINK THIS IS THE BEGINNING OF THE APOCALYPSE??? It's not natural for humans to have these powers!!! #EndTimes"
"Physics professor tried to explain how Thorne's levitation works and admitted it doesn't make sense with known laws 😂 #BrokenCience"
It was fascinating to watch humanity trying to process a discovery that fundamentally challenged their understanding of reality. Some embracing change, some resisting it, most simply confused.
If only they knew this was just the beginning...
LinkedIn was full of "thought leaders" offering analysis on "business implications of Thorne capabilities" and "how to prepare your company for the post-human era."
Instagram had thousands of videos of people trying to replicate my commands, obviously failing, but generating massive engagement.
TikTok was even more chaotic — from teenage "scientific explanations" to elaborate conspiracy theories about my true identity.
YouTube had entire channels dedicated to analyzing every second of my public demonstrations, looking for "tricks" or "evidence of CGI."
It was anthropology in real time - observing species while trying to integrate information that transcended existing paradigms.
My phone vibrated. Katharina.
"Kai, are you awake? We have a situation here in the lab."
"What kind of situation?"
"David Chen arrived ten minutes ago. With his sister."
I paused. We had set it for 8:00, and it was only 7:55.
"They're early," I observed.
"Kai... she's in really bad shape. He said her condition deteriorated drastically overnight. He's desperate."
I could hear real urgency in Katharina's voice. To her, this was a genuine medical emergency. To me, after controlling 847 soldiers and destroying an entire civilization, it was… trivial.
"I'm coming," he said.
I quickly threw on my clothes and walked to the lab. It was a beautiful morning on the MIT campus—students heading to morning classes, professors carrying coffees, normal academic life continuing as if the universe hadn't fundamentally changed a week ago.
The laboratory was in a subdivision of the main building that had been quickly converted for our purposes. Medical equipment, computers, cameras for documentation, and enough open space for demonstrations.
When I entered, I saw David sitting next to a chair where a young woman was reclining. She looked to be about seventeen, with dark hair and a pale skin that suggested advanced illness. Her breathing was labored, her eyes closed, and her body visibly frail.
Katharina was checking monitoring equipment. Markus was adjusting lighting for recording. They both looked at me with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension.
"Dr. Thorne," David stood up immediately when he saw me. His eyes were red—he had obviously been crying. "Thank you for coming. This is my sister, Sarah."
I approached the chair, looking at the young woman who was the first real test of my healing abilities in a controlled environment. To David, she was the whole world. To me, she was an interesting but solvable case.
It was weird cognitive dissonance.
"Sarah," I said softly. She opened her eyes, focusing on me with difficulty.
"You are... Dr. Thorne?" His voice was weak, but curious.
"I am. David told me about you. Let's take care of this, okay?"
She nodded, a small smile appearing on her lips. It was the smile of a person who had accepted death but was willing to hope anyway.
"Kai," Katharina said quietly, "equipment is recording everything. For scientific documentation."
"Good," I replied. It was important to have a record of what would be the first official medical cure using the system.
"Dr. Thorne," Markus added, "what do we need to know about the process? For safety?"
Security. Interesting concept when applied to technology that could rewrite physical reality.